


Come

by strangeera



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 20:11:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7004665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeera/pseuds/strangeera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"In my bedroom, and he's on top of me on top of my bed, holding me down with both hands." Just a little porny vignette, bit of crack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still writing Deadbeat heart-throb so if you're into that, I will definitely be updating soon. I haven't had much motivation lately, but I wrote this earlier today. Hope you enjoy it, shoutout to livesybaby for reading it over :)

In my bedroom, and he's on top of me on top of my bed, holding me down with both hands. He's still wearing the ugly gilet he adorably pronounces gillet, and I can see he's basically rock solid beneath his blue jeans, feel it against my stomach. I'm feeling weird and kind of ornery today, in a right fuckin' mood, and I sort of don't feel into it but sort of do, but I don't want to give it up easily, either way. “Come on,” he's saying, trying to kiss me as I turn away, kissing my neck instead, the side of my face. I'm squirming but into it, and I'm hard too, and I know he can feel it against his leg, waiting. He's smiling, I'm staring at the TV on mute. I want it bad. I'm horny as fuck but I don't want him to know how bad I want it. I think it's too late though, I'm soakin'.

 

“Take off ya trousers,” he's whispering into my ear, manoeuvring his arms so now he's holding me down with one hand, one on my belt buckle. I'm trying to escape, squirm away – but barely, you know, and he's breathing heavily into my ear and saying, “fucking hell, Aaron, just-” and “jesus, I can't-” and I guess I'm smirking because he pulls away from me and just stares at me bemused for a few seconds, one eyebrow raised – that fucking cocky look on his stupid handsome face that constantly reminds me I'd do anything he asks and more, all day every day, for the rest of his life, amen.

 

“That how it's gonna be, ay?” he says with a smirk that simultaneously makes me want to chew my own fist off and pull out all of his eyelashes u3iqy863945egiuocv jkewn2343930-0923a#q. “Hard to play hard to get when you're a little slut,” and now I'm basically rock.solid too, dripping against my jeans, but I don't feel like getting fucked, I'm not feeling into it, so I say, “I don't feel like getting fucked, I'm not feeling into it,” and he, looking at me like the purple devil emoji and hovering above me, says, “alright, suck me off,” and I say, “alright, I'm not getting undressed though.”

 

“Understood,” he says, tongue between his teeth, fuckimng/hell I'm harrrrrrrd, fumbling with his belt buckle and pulling out his dick as I stare at him and try to think back, the first time, but it vanishes into his mouth as the tongue does, and he slides his dick into my mouth. His pubes tickle my nose, and they smell like fabric softener, and I place my hand on his stomach as he begins to fuck my mouth – slow, at first, and then, faster, and he's saying things like, “fuck yeah,” and “take it,” and I'm rolling my eyes a little bit, until he starts like full on fucking my throat, and I try to keep up with his pace, impress him or whatever with my sick blow-job ability but it's futile, I'm gonna throw up. Spit out his dick and, gagging, eyes wet, I'm like, “fucking hell, Robert, this isn't a porno. I've just had my dinner,” and I wipe my mouth with my hand, and he says, “shit, sorry,” but he really doesn't look that sorry. “I'm sceptical,” I say.

 

He puts his dick in my mouth again, and I kind of zone out for a while, feeling the beat of my pulse match the beat of his hips against my face, stare over at the TV on mute, and there's an old woman and a dog, folding a napkin, and after a little while, above me he says, “I'm 'bout to come,” and I'm suddenly just feeling too far away, too detached, and so I say, with his dick still in my mouth, “grab my neck,” I dunno, and he says, gasping, “your neck?” and I say, “yah,” between his dick, so he pulls his dick out of my mouth, and I watch, mesmerised, the trail of spit that briefly connects us, and somehow it feels important, but anyway, he's shuddering, and my neck is wet, and he's coming all over my neck, my t-shirt, all of it, one hand on my face, one hand on his dick. 

 

“Why did you fuckin' do that?” I ask after he's done, you know, coming all over my neck, and he just stares at me incredulous and breathing heavily. “What?” he asks. “Why did you come all over me?” I ask, sitting up slowly, trying not to let it drip all over my t-shirt. “Pass me a baby wipe, yeah?” and he says, “you asked me to,” and I say, “what? No I didn't,” and he goes, “Aaron, you literally just asked me to come on your neck,” and I say, with the face on, “literally why would I ask you that?” and he says, “well whatever, you did,” and I say, taking the baby wipe when he offers, “I asked you to grab my neck, fucking hell, why would I want you to come on my neck? What would that do for me?” and he just goes, “oh.” Oh. “Are you gonna come?”

 

“You know, I'm alright,” I say, grimacing.


End file.
